Behind the Cover
by LifeOfA-FallingStar
Summary: To Smile is to never shed a tear and not be seen as real. I hide everything behind a smile. Yet no one looks passed my cover to see it is fake. Will Ameila find someone to truly read her story and heal her trigger warning in later chapters, sex, violence, abuse, rape, this is an adult story. I don't own Hetalia. FemUSAx Undecided. Not a story for children. That's why it's rated M.
1. Chapter 1

To smile is to be unseen. To laugh is to be unheard. To be an optimist is the best and most terrible thing. To ensure they never know. I am always surrounded by people and yet, I am completely alone. These people I smile at and call friends are really acquaintances who annoy me. Maybe I just lament on the wrong things too much.

I am more than you think. I am more than you admit. I am strong. I am kind. I have been through pain. I have seen bad things and I have done worse. I cry. I laugh. I am simply human. I am not as I seem. But you only ever look at the surface. Once you meet me you never see past that first encounter. I do this to myself though. I am simply human. I am simply hurt. I am simply happy. I am only human. Don't expect so much from me. And please look beyond my cover. Read my story deeper than the picture you first see. Only then will you truly learn who I am.

"Hey, Amelia!" I roll my eyes before turning around with a huge grin plastered on my face.

"Yo Tino!" I hollered to my Finnish friend. His accent amused me, it was cute.

"You weren't in class earlier," the concern in his voice almost made me sick. "Are you alright?"

I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly and forced a blush and shy laugh "Hehe, yeah. I actually over slept. Right through my alarm man."

"That's not good miss Amelia!" He stated

"Yeah, I know. Do you think I could take a picture of your notes?"

"Sure!" He pulled out his notebook. His old brown satchel was nice, along with his light blue athletic jacket.

I quickly took a snap of the notes. I really hate math. It bore me. Way to easy honestly "Man, I hate math. Mrs. Johnson is so hard to understand."

He laughed, "Get tutoring for it. You know it's part of our tuition. Take advantage of it."

I laughed loudly, it's real, I find this amusing. "Man, I feel like an idiot when I do. I hate feeling stupid. I'll just study harder."

"Alright," he inclined his head, "I have class at 2 so I'll talk to you later!"

"Have a good one man!" I laughed.

As soon as he was out of sight I forced my smile off. I then wondered why I felt joy in those few moments. I guess pretending for so long…well…it's not pretending. I am an overall happy person. I just don't show my pain and it's like when I get sad I'm not allowed to show it.

I put my head phones into my ear and play what love really means by JJ Heller. I hum the lyrics as I walk to the 3D building. At least the campus is small, so I can walk everywhere.

I'm a sculpting Major at our small university. Montevallo is a great campus with great people. Too many Demarcates and Liberals for my liking but any republican would say that.

As I sat down with my clay, after kneading it of course, I started on a new piece. As "Does anybody hear her by Casting Crowns" plays my piece slowly comes to life. Once a lump is now quickly put into a rough human shape.

"Hey Ameria." A gentle voice states softly.

"Yo, Kiku," I stop what I'm doing and turn off my music a gentle smile graces my lips "You here to help me out?"

He nodded "I enjoyed the last piece you made." I remembered the cartoonish dragon I made for him because I needed practice. I got lucky and it was on his birthday, ever sense he would come play the flute while I worked. "What will it be this time?"

I smile "An angle pouring gentle love from a vase unto a child" is my simple explanation.

"That sounds deep. I have just the song." He slowly starts a gentle song which reminds me of the elvish music I like to meditate too.

Together we got the basics of the shape put together. My spray bottle and tools are used up by the end of the hour. The body of the angle looks more human and the child's form is started. Still no specifics or details to tell much and nothing is smoothed out. The outline of the wings sit to the side. No clothing on either person. I like to get personal with my sculptures and out details into the body, even ones that won't be seen.

Kiku stopped playing as I put everything away and waited patiently for me as I cleaned my work station. I good hour and thirty minutes has passed and we both have class at four.

"All of your art classes seem nice and relaxing." He informs me.

I snort "Not even close man. I spend hours on a project for one class and then don't finish another. It'll be nice once I get past all the basics and can move too my concentration. Yet for now I am stuck juggling everything." True, being a Sophomore is hard work and I'm terrified of not being good enough. I'll be junior next semester… I hope.

He seems to sense my unease. "Do you have your seminar soon?"

"Yeah man," I sigh "At the end of next month. If my beginning work isn't good enough I get kicked out of the art program….I'm scared honestly."

He seems confused, I mean Amelia Heartfila is a confident woman who fears nothing.

"Don't get me wrong man, my sculpting wither clay, wood, plaster, ceramics, even our tape project is all up to par! But when it comes to drawing, painting, print making, or anything like, I'm just no good. I can do some cool things with my head but not when it comes to drawing." My explanation is winded.

He smiles simply "I think you will be fine."

"Count on a Buddhist to be positive and calm." I laugh and he only blushes.

We split off as I head to the painting room and him to advanced music theory. Fucking prodigy.

"You Bloody idiot. Are you daft?!"

I laugh as I walk in "Hey Artie!" I greet him "What's got your panties in a twist? Must be a pretty tight thong for you to be yelling in your favorite class."

"Amelia, watch your language," he reprimands me.

"Wee, a lady should not talk without refinement." Francis states.

I scoff, "I never said I was a lady now did I?"

I walk over and see that Francis has painted the male penis on his canvas.

"This fool is making a mockery of me!" Arthur informed me.

Francis of course denies it, "I am not!"

"How is this making fun of you?" I am thoroughly confused by this. The pieces is hardly finished, the main point is probably something to do with sexual or gender inequality.

"I am doing a piece on how people become lost in their lust and how the desire for satisfaction becomes an obsessive controlling part of our life." So celibacy.

Francis counters "I am doing a piece on how sexual adventures can help someone and how it is none of anyone else business what I do in bed."

"You Bloody Wanker! You are the reason for the down Fall of everything! You crummy frogs hide behind every pillar you can while insulting others!"

I see his point. Instead of debating their differences they are going to use their art to define and start a debate in class. Nothing too foul can be said opinion wise so whoever gets the best grade wins the argument. This is a common way to settle things for art students. But also very lame and immature. You should face your battle and settle is quickly not over time. Though great pieces are produced under passion of any kind.

"He has a point Artie," Before he can yell at me I continue. "One's private actions has no effect on you. Only themselves the other directly involved. You can't blame one specific thing on the down fall of something. Instead look at the underlining meaning and reasoning."

"oui, écouter son, she speaks the truth!" Francis encourages me. The few times I say something smart everyone listens. The teacher walks, I go to move but she stops me.

"No pleases continue Ms. Amelia." Mr. Grog is a nice man and loves deep conversation. Young in age but old in spirt.

"Well, the question is really why. So why would someone become obsessed with sexual actions and does that mean everyone will?" I pause to let them think "I believe not. Most studies show that an obsession of sex is caused by a need for attention or satisfaction. It can be used to forget your problems or make you feel important. So then not everyone will over come to always have sex. At the same time the fault is in the childhood of the person where either they didn't make enough friends or they did not receive attention from their guardians. The fault is in parenting." Another pause "yet!" I turn to Francis "One's desire does not mean they hate sex. They also could have a lack of attention yet instead of seek it out they further their seclusion or if they have trauma involving sex they may avoid it and scorn it."

Another pauses leaves the class silent in thought "Yet it could be none of those. For everyone reacts differently to things and you may have no trauma and the perfect amount of love and freedom and yet still desire sex on a daily basses. At the end of the day it doesn't really matter because it does not affect you what another does. That person should deal with it and not fear being scorned by others by their choices."

"Provo Mrs. Amelia but here is another question for everyone to think on." Mr. Grog pauses and ensures everyone is listening. "How far should something go before someone steps in to help another? Even if it does not affect you, should you still help someone if they are facing something harmful and are only hurting themselves and how far do you allow them to try on their own."

"So even if it does not affect us how long do you allow someone to suffer? And what is the help that can be offered?" Arthur clarifies.

"Yes," Mr. Grog concludes "Let this be the inspiration for your next pieces. Any paint related medium can be used and any form. Mix what you will as long as painting techniques are involved."

We dismissed class early to think on this.

Deep meaningful conversation is what I desire and that is why I love art. To describe deepness in the single piece is the most meaningful conversation because it requires one to think more in depth on what they see and feel. This is art.

My phone rang an hour later my boyfriend is calling. I debate ignoring it but instead throw that thought away and answer what is sure to be along conversation.

"Hey, this great Amelia speaking." I answer with a small before I climb into a tree where no one can see me.

"You haven't text me all day!" a voice yells. I flinch on reflexes.

"I over slept, was doing homework, and was in class. I'm sorry but it slipped my mind."

"Slipped your mind!" I hold the phone away as I light a smoke. "Is that what this relationship is? Amelia answer me! Am I just something for your free time? What do you mean you slept in. You should go to class, not waste time sleeping. You could have texted me. You are so ungrateful to everything I've done for you. How can you be so worthless?"

"I'm sorry Jay. I told you it was an accident. I'm just busy with homework and projects that all." I inform him calmly.

"The you should stay a head so you have time for me! I should be the first thing on your mind when you wake up! Amelia you need to be better for this to work!"

"I know I know. I'm trying okay? I'll do better to remember things."

"You better, now let me tell you about my day." Then I listened for about thirty minutes to his day. He told me about work and his family being asses to him again. I told him I loved him and that everything will work out. I had to go for work. He hung up and headed to the 3D building again to work on my sculpture. There I sat until about eight at night when my job actually started.

To the strip club I left. On stage I did my exotic dances and then sold myself to some of the men and made a good 500 dollars that night. Meaningless sex. Jay didn't need to know, no one did. This was how I paid for school and supplies. They can all think I only work as a cashier at the local art store, which I did during the day. I got home and put half the money towards rent and the other half for other things to do. Anything left over for rent that month went to a savings account that my boyfriend didn't know about. Then sleep took over me when I got home at 4 in the morning. Thank goodness it was Friday so I could sleep in tomorrow.

 **(READ!)**

 **Hey Everyone, I know I've been gone for a long time. I started college at good old Montevallo and I just haven't had time to write. I got depressed and writing always helps me so here is this story. I don't know what the pairing is yet so if you have any ideas tell me. I'll do this for a few chapters and see what ya'll think. This has trigger warning and gets intense in later chapters. Of course a setup has to be done for a proper story. Tell me any ideas and what you think. Flames welcomed because it improves my writing but please elaborate and let me know what you didn't like or did. Thanks!**

 **As always I don't own Hetalia, only the story line. This is college based time frame and some characters may be OOC. Help me to not let that happen. As always reviews encourage me to write but my updates will be slow do to school and work.**


	2. Chapter 2

Long nights. Dirty nights. Stressful nights. Who am I but to charge the face of faith? I'm worthless, a dirty, worthless, good for nothing, person. What trash.

This is all I think as nails rack through my skin and hands pull my hair.

"You're such a good girl. Oh yeah," the guy above me grunts as my mouth slides along his small penis. Practice makes perfect they say but I wish I hadn't practice this so much. He barely reaches the back of my throat but he has the nerve to tell me "No knows ever deep throated me before, guess my size scares them. But you're a good girl miss Daddy's Girl."

I have to fight to roll my eyes, what's so hard about a whole four inches, yeah I'm so scared. This is half the size I'm use to for fuck's sake. Quickly I finish him off with humming, the vibrations going through my throat sends him over the edge. I allow some of the cum to roll down my mouth.

"Did I do good daddy?" It makes me sick how sweet sounding my voice is. I hate this role playing shit. Why would anyone want to fuck their dad? I mean a dead beat who runs off and leaves his family alone is so attractive right? How about when he comes back ten years later only to be an abusive ass.

"Good girl," he pats my head and smiles. The timer rings just as he goes to ask something else of me.

I stand and wipe the string of white from the side of my face; that was the grosses thing I've ever tasted. "Alright you know the drill. You don't have to leave a tip but if you don't and if it's not good enough this never happens again." Yeah that's how we stay away from prostitution. They don't have to pay, but its highly encouraged.

I walk out of my private room in the club, I have another show in thirty minutes so I have to prepare. My costume is in place along with my makeup, bright red lipstick and a slight blush. In the mirror I see that my red white and blue skirt flows nicely to my ankles and when I twirl is shows the slits that run all the way up to the top of the skirt. My top is that of an American flag design bikini top decorated with bells that slide along the breast to drape over my side. My belly ring wraps lightly around my entire stomach, toned from the work out. My mask protects my identity. Bells adorn my ankles and wrist.

I love to belly dance, but I wish it was in a better setting. My style is that of Native American and Egyptian techno mixed. I find it beautiful and alluring so the perfect mixed for me to make the most money.

A gruff voice goes over the intercom, "I hope you are ready for our American sweet heart," I take my place close to the entrance, "Hold on to your seats boys because Daddy's Girl is here!"

Daddy's Girl, it was a sick joke to remind me what got me into this mess. I had saved up years for college, enough that I'd never have to work. Yet my dead beat dad showed up and stole all my money and made a little extra off me from his friends. The guys who come to my private room like it though. They leave a nice tip for their dear daughter.

My performance only takes ten minutes but I'm covered in sweat by the end of it. Now is the moment of truth as the man speaks again "Now then, if anyone is willing to pay the 500 dollars Daddy's Girl will take of her mask and lose some cloths!"

We waited not even a minutes before an old fat guy, ugly as hell, runs on stage and hands me the money. Everyone is whooping and hollering, of course someone who can't get laid would do it. What else would he spend his money on?

I slip the five 100 dollar bills into my waist line as I also remove the mask and the music starts. Slowly I remove the top two skirts and reveal an even shorter shirt, mid-thigh, light blue underneath it. I'm an exotic dancer not a striper. But with a few high kicks and spins they get what they want. I turn around and show them my ass as I shimmy and use my hands to hold my hair up. Turning my head to the side I wink as I disappear off stage.

"You got one in the room and here is the tip the last one left." I was informed. Fifty dollars. What a cheap bastard. I walk to the room and slink on it.

"What can I offer you?" I ask as I lock the door.

"Oh mon amour, You know you are my dirty little girl." I sighed as I saw Francis sitting across from me. I sat at his feet and laid my head in his lap as my arms curled around his torso.

"Oh daddy, please don't tell mommy. She'd be so mad at me."

He started to pet me, "Oh nonono. This is our little secrete. No need to fret my little dear. Now be a good girl a lay down will you." A command not a question.

I must say I enjoy when Francis comes around. He keeps this a secret for me and tells everyone on campus how ugly the women are and terrible the alcohol is so they don't come in here. And so he doesn't have to leave a tip but beyond that, it's a nice change of pace, after all he does the work and I can enjoy.

The couch is plush with a soft blanket and my head rests on the edge with a satin pillow underneath. Francis knows how get me off and I enjoy every minutes of it. He starts by kissing my neck lightly and biting my collar bone, moves down to glide over my breast. Slowly he removes my top. I'm an average size of a 32 B so not to big but I'm not small. His tongue licks at each breast and nips at my nipple as his hands massage the other. The he moves down to my belly button where he licks and sucks and pulls on my piercing. I hate to say it but I really enjoy that. My fingers find a way into his hair and a sigh escapes my red lips.

"Mon Amour you are so tense. Relax and let me do as I please." His voice is silk and drips with lust. I've never understood people who prefer to give but I appreciate them.

He skips my womanhood and removes my skirt and thong. The he massages my feet as he kisses up my thighs. Without shame I let out a low moan as he lightly bites my big toe. Once he shows affection equally to my feet and climbs back up and his tongue comes in contact with my clit. I spread my legs for easy access. In turn He throws one over his shoulder. A finger slowly slips into my mouth and another and another. I suck and apply my own lubrication to them though I'm sure there is enough without it.

I can remember when this first happen. He was nice while I panicked and begging him not to tell. He got to know me sexually and together we learned some new kinks. He's just happy to have a partner that'll allow him to also do what he likes. Now that I think about maybe his painting was as a way of comforting me after Arthur went on that large spill about sex and strippers and dancers being bad. He's defending both of us from the brutality of those who don't understand. Or I'm thinking too much into it.

I don't have time to think as my brain blacks out with the pleasure of having two fingers in my vagina and one in my ass, his tongue doing wonders on my clit. This is so much better than all the ugly old smelly men that come in here. Best part is I don't have to say daddy or anything like that.

"Nnn, F-Francis," I moan out through pants, my hand clutched his hair tightly. "Don't you w-want anything t-t-t-too?"

He chuckles and stops what he is doing as he unbuttons his pants and slides out a rather nicely sized dick. 6 inches is really nice. I crawl up and take him in my mouth, doing all the tricks I've learned and lightly grazing my teeth along his length.

"Don't be a bad girl now mon Amour." A warning that if I keep going he'll get rough and won't be able to control himself. Honestly that's kind what I'm in the mood for. So I lightly bite him, careful to cause no pain, and my tongue flicks over his tip as I remove my mouth and lick the underside of his manhood.

"I don't know what you mean. I'd never be bad to you, _daddy._ " Sarcasm drips off my tongue much like natural saliva as I egg him on.

I see him lose it before I feel it. His hand on the back of my head forcing me to take the whole length, but careful not to gag me. He cums and I swallow, but unlike every other guy him finishing doesn't mean an end to the fun.

He picks me up and lays me stomach side down on the couch. His hands tightly hold mine behind my back, one hand is large enough to do so. _Smack_ , I moan as his hand connects with my ass. This goes on for a second or two until he grabs the hand cuffs I keep in the drawer beside the couch. My hands secured and my knees almost touching my shoulder as he licks me up and down. I feel one of the small toys he always has on hand go into my butt hole as he puts a condom on and enters me. While pushing my head down into the couch he roughly slams into me. It hurts in the best kind of ways.

Soon he climaxes again and after some work I join him. After this my night is a bore. I pay the club the fee for letting me dance, 40 dollars for a 6 hour shift, and give them the 10 percent of my tips. I head home with about 550 in my pocket. This was a really good night. I normally only make about two to three hundred dollars when I work. It's only 11 at night and sense tomorrow is Sunday and I am off I head to the school to work on my project.

It's about 11:30 when I arrive and as I hoped the sculpting room is empty. I remove the plastic bag from my current piece and check the glaze on my last piece. I get a spray bottle and small bowl of water. My small sponge is in my hand as I lightly spray my pieces, after all you can't work with dry clay (that's much further then what I am at now.), I use my sponge to even out the amount and to make sure it isn't too wet. Slowly I guide my hands along the piece, straighten and adding more definition to the goddess in my hands. Truly the love of women surpasses that of men and so God must be a woman. Though I am told he actually has no gender and dicks just gave him one to seem more superior.

With that in mind I remembered that there is no music to satisfy my sense and so I quickly clean off one hand and play some meditative music that reminds of a goddess and war. For me, my clay is my mediation. I lose my self in the clay and allow it to create its self. It is so easy to manipulate in some areas and harder in others. I take this as indication for the features. Defined calf muscle, large thighs and hips, a little bit of wait on the stomach, small curves for the waist (she is more of a rectangle body type.) and shoulders that meet the middle of female and male. The face has a soft slope to it and I can see where I'll give her a defined jaw line and pudgy cheeks, a gentle smile will be the grace of her lips.

Now that the body is done I will start on make her a female. To the side I form two small balls about the size of the tip of my pinky and two even smaller cylinders. I form the breast like this by giving them a water droplet shape with a long pointed top and flat bottom side. The nipples were a little harder and I had to use tweezers that I flattened the edge on to form them. I let them dry for a second as I defined the collar bone by adding to pieces of clay I rolled along in a snake like fashion. Small but with more of a ball on one end. I attached them from the shoulder and angled down. The after it was smoothed along the edges I used a tool with a ball on the end to make the indention at the center of the collar bone. As this finishes I spray the pieces then add the breast, the long point is put at the center of one side of the collar bone and smoothed down into the "flesh" so that you can't see the seam.

All in all the statue is about two feet tall. Next I work on the face. I measure my own and scale it down (I've done this enough before I have the measurements memorized.) To make the eye brows and nose evenly placed, I mark it with a cut in the clay. I dig out a hole for where the eyes will be. I place two orbs of clay into it and flatten it out, adding small pieces of flat clay against it for the two eye lids before make the eye brows. I don't put in a pupil so that it has a glazed over look. Less human. Then the other eye and pieces for the nose and the two pieces for the lips. Once I am satisfied with the placement and proportion I add clay to the cheeks. Now I spray with water and with both hands I work each side of the face in the same area and smooth out the clay to align with the "flesh". For the eyes and lips I use a tool to slope the edges and add lines to give it more of a flesh texture. Chapped lips so you can see she is starving herself by giving her water to another.

I look at my watch, it is now 4 in the morning. So I pack up and leave, locking the door on my out. I have been in here so much that the teachers gave me key to the building and when I leave I lock the door. I will fire tomorrow and work on the child. I look around and see no one. So I light up a cigarette. I lean against my red Ford F1 50, my cousin made me a bush guard for it. The pallmal menthol was just what I needed and the fact that it was 100 meant it last longer.

I know smoking is bad for me but I deserve to have something. I spend all my time working and doing homework, I sell myself just so my family doesn't have to suffer the financial burden of me being in college. This is what helps me. This is my vice. I don't have much that is for me but I claim this. It won't be forever, just until I graduate and I can get a more respectable job. After all I'm just a stripper, if no one respects my body then why should I? I shouldn't even have to defend myself. It's my life, I'll do as I please.

I sigh, now I want to drink. I hate myself for my weakness but I also don't understand why I should.

"That is bad for you." A deep thick accent washed over my sense, Russian is such a sexy accent.

"Yeah," I take a puff, "I don't really give a damn man."

He laughed, "You do as you please Da?"

I thought about it, "No," I said honestly "This is the only thing I allow myself to have."

"Want to share," His voice was nice.

I pass over a cigarette and a lighter to him. He leans against my truck and takes a slow drag.

"You are out late, da?" I see, we are going to do simple conversation. How taxing.

"The life of an art student." Was my simple yet sharp reply.

He scoffed, "You wouldn't be out this late if you managed your time better."

I laughed "Who are you to judge? You're out late too."

"Da, it is грустный," A pause "Sad, it's sad but I was bored and came for a walk."

"It's too damn cold for that man," and it's true. Fall was coming to an end and winter was setting in.

"Da, I enjoy the cold." He takes a drag "Reminds me of home."

"I see." Silence engulfed us as we finished our last drag. "Amelia," I extended my hand to him.

"Ivan," was his reply, we shook and then went separate ways.

And that was only my first encounter of many with the strange man named Ivan. I wish I would have known then how much that small encounter would affect my life. Truly fate has intertwined many threads into mine, some I wish I would have never had the displeasure of meeting.

I look at my phone and see all my missed calls from Jay, with a sigh I put up my phone. I'll deal with it tomorrow. I'm sure it'll be worse but I'm not in the mood to be berated right now. With that I finally head home and go to bed. I really am a terrible person.

 **Thanks for reading! I own nothing but the plot.**


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